


Brat

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Choking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Shota, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: Professor Nygma finds a unique way to deal with the petulant little troublemaker in his class.





	Brat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johniarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/gifts).



> Complaints need to come to my tumblr: pocketsizesatan. Not to the recipient of this surprise fic. Thank you.

“I expect an apology, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

Arms folded, pink bottom lip thrust out in pouting defiance, Oswald was not about to oblige Professor Nygma in any way, and found it silly that he thought there was a chance it could happen.

Oswald was eight years old, he knew right from wrong, and yes this was wrong. But he also knew his Mama would be here at the end of the day to pick him up and scorn Professor Nygma for ever accusing her little Kapelput of doing something as terrible as replacing Professor Nygma’s coffee with ink when he wasn’t looking. 

He was irked that Nygma figured it out before taking a real drink, though. 

“No,” he said flatly, bare legs swinging back and forth in the big chair he was seated in, his uniform shorts stopping at the middle of his thigh. 

Edward had had enough of this little brat. Oswald was constantly causing trouble and wheedling out of it unscathed due to some technicality or another. Sometimes it was his intellect, sometimes it was his mother, and sometimes it was those bright eyes and freckles framed by a sickly sweet smile. 

He found it utterly infuriating, his loopholes and his looks. Now he had his chance to really punish this child before any interferences could be had. 

“I’m going to give you one last chance,” he said, rising so he was towering above the boy, who looked all the more defiant because of it. “Apologize for what you’ve done, or you’re going to be punished.” 

Oswald scoffed. “And what will you make me do? Clap erasers? Write ‘I will not put ink in Professor Nygma’s mug’ a hundred times?” He asked, smirking at him through dark lashes. 

Edward smiled wickedly. “No. I think you need something more...lasting.” He presented a long, slender wooden cane from behind his desk and slapped it down in the middle of the rich mahogany. “Unthinkable to some, necessary to others. Torture behind closed doors, or foundations for good character: What am I?” 

Oswald swallowed, his bright eyes glassy and wide. He looked nervous. Edward liked it. “Spanking,” he whispered. 

“Correct. Well, actually it’s corporal punishment, but I won’t fault you for the confusion,” he chuckled, watching him closely. Oswald blinked and the fear vanished from his eyes, pout returning full force and taking Edward’s grin with it. 

“I don’t believe you’ll actually use it,” he spat, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t do anything like that to me. I’ll tell my Mama and she’ll get you into trouble with the headmaster!” 

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Oswald,” he explained, leaning against the desk and examining the cane. “In public schools you can’t touch a hair on a student’s head, that’s true. But this isn’t public school, is it?” He looked at him, gaze dark. “I’ll ask only one more time, Oswald. Apologize.” 

The boy looked between the cane and Mr. Nygma, wondering if the wiry professor could even really hurt him. He didn’t look very strong. Sure, he was tall, but that meant nothing in terms of real strength. He was beaten up nearly every day, he could handle a simple caning. 

He straightened his jacket and his little tie, folding his arms delicately over his chest again. He was small for his age, cheeks ruddy from agitation and foreseen embarrassment, but Edward had never seen a child with more anger and nerve than this little shit in front of him. 

“No,” he said, slowly and clearly so he wouldn’t be misheard. 

“Very well.” 

Edward snatched Oswald clean out of the chair and shoved him toward the desk. “Hands out, legs spread, Mr. Cobblepot.” He ordered, positioning the child himself, who fought and shrugged away from him. 

“No! I won’t! You can’t do this to me, I’ll make you pay for trying!” He cried, writhing in Edward’s grip. 

“Oh, will you?” he snarled, dropping the cane and replacing Oswald in the chair. He threw the boy over his lap, much, much stronger than anticipated, and in one long swing of his arm, he brought his hand right in the middle of his short-clad cheeks. 

Oswald gave a sharp cry, his already red face flushing all the more. He kicked weakly  but gained no purchase in striking his professor, who chuckled. 

“See, I’m not afraid of you, Oswald,” he declared, striking him again. He relished his cry of pain, heat settling low in his belly. “Or your mother. In fact, I think this will be good for you.” Another swat. “You might actually learn some manners.” Another. 

The tiny boy panted through the pain, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Each powerful smack to his rear made him rock, and...and he couldn’t help it but...part of it felt good. It felt good being entirely out of control, being handled like this, helpless and punished good and proper. He couldn’t explain it, much like he couldn’t explain his feelings for the man hurting him. Thinking about Professor Nygma made him squirm like he was squirming now, something funny happening to his body he didn’t understand.  

Luckily, Ed did. 

He stopped mid-swing, his smirk spreading into an all-out grin. “Mr. Cobblepot, you don’t... _ like this _ , do you?” 

“No!” The boy cried too quickly, the tips of his ears so red they were nearly purpling. “No, you bastard, let me go!” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, naughty, naughty…” He slowly rolled the thigh under Oswald’s lower half, feeling his stiff little prick through the thick fabric of his pants. The boy shuddered and attempted to squirm away. “Ah, you do like it… Well, that changes things a bit.” He grabbed the waistband of Oswald’s shorts and yanked them down and clean off his body, looking at his pink little ass through his tiny white briefs. “So, for enjoying it, you lose a layer,” he explained. “For cursing at me, you’ll lose another.” 

“No, no, no, don’t!” Oswald cried, feeling his underwear slide down his soft, ghostly pale legs. He trembled, cocklet bare against Professor Nygma’s warm thigh and rock hard. He was starting to sweat, dark hair falling in his face. 

Edward hummed, examining him closely while he ran his large hand over his lower back, the curve of his pink ass and his soft little thighs. “Perhaps my bare hand on your bare skin will allow the message to sink in, hm?” He offered, his thumb brushing against his sac to watch him shake. 

“Wait, wait, I’m sorr-” 

He didn’t allow him time to finish. He brought his hand down hard, watching his cheeks immediately gain more color from the hit. Oswald cried out louder, his heart pounding in his chest. Edward was spanking him raw and it was driving him mad. It hurt so much, and yet he didn’t want it to stop. He sobbed as tears started to pour, welted buttocks taking more and more abuse. 

Ed smirked while the boy came undone. It was hard to be proud and defiant splayed out like this, shaking and hard, arousal growing from each spank given to plump and swollen flesh. He wanted to see how much the tiny child could take. He licked his fingertips and struck him again, heightening the sting. Oswald yelped, but presented himself to him. He wanted more. 

Still keeping his elbow in the middle of the boy’s back, he used his opposite hand to spread his cheeks. His little asshole was beautiful, pink and pulsing much like his cock and his swollen lips. He salivated just looking at him, the series of whimpers from the boy like the sweetest symphony. He let spit glide from his tongue and drip onto his hole, making it quiver. 

“W-what are you doing?” Oswald asked shakily, throbbing with pleasure.

“I thought we discussed this already. I’m punishing you,” he explained simply. He licked his finger tips again, and used them to slap his hole. Oswald’s entire body tensed and  he cried out, whimpering more pleas as Edward gave small wind up strikes before hitting it again, hard. 

“Ah! Stop it!” He sobbed. “Stop it, stop it, that hurts!” 

“You like it,” Edward growled, spitting on his tiny sac now. “Besides, if I stop now, you’ll walk around with your little prick all hard and unsatisfied. Is that what you want? For all of them to see that?” 

“No,” he hissed, bowing his head in humiliation and submission. “I, I don’t want that.” 

“Beg me to spank your asshole,” he purred, rolling his fingers over his soft sac. 

“Please,” he obliged. “Please, Mr. Nygma…” 

Edward sighed and slapped his ass. “I said beg me to spank your asshole, not just beg. Try again.”  Another spank and Oswald sobbed louder. 

“Spank my asshole, Professor!” 

“Now there’s a good boy.” 

Over and over he struck him, feeling him shake with what he was sure was an orgasm, but he wouldn’t stop. Oswald was still hard, after all. The pink little entrance was bright and swelling, Oswald’s hips canting in the air. 

“You want this to end?” Edward asked, slender fingers caressing his flushed skin in a quiet routine, scratching at his freckles to coax another whimper. 

“Please,” he shuddered. “Please, my, my penis is so hard I don’t know what to do.” 

Edward picked him up and set him on the ground, smiling when he fell to his knees as they gave out on him. “First, you’re going to give me that apology,” he growled, unzipping his fly to free his own aching cock. Oswald’s eyes grew as he looked at him, pushing the jacket from his shoulders. Edward grabbed the boy by his tie, chuckling when he gasped. “Open your mouth,” he snarled, pulling him forward by his improvised leash and a fist in his hair, pushing the tip of his cock into his soft, pink mouth. 

There was absolutely no time allowed  for Oswald to grow used to the feel, the taste, the sheer girth of him, before he thrust into his mouth fully. The boy gagged, unable to slip away because of the tie. Tears streaked his face and he shuddered, utterly submitting to his professor, to the cock sliding down his throat and how good it felt to hear Ed moan like this. 

Desperate, throbbing, his own fingers fumbled for his cock, which Edward smacked away. “No. Not until I say so,” he growled. He thrust into Oswald’s throat, wetting his fingers and leaned over him, gently teasing his hole some more. 

He wouldn’t last, looking at the welts on the boy, the flush in all that pale, baby soft skin and his red, wet, tear-stained face choking down his cock like he was made for it. A proper punishment for little Oswald if there ever was one. 

With one more little touch. 

In a hard, erratic thrust Ed buried his cock as far down Oswald’s throat as he could manage and came hard. The boy’s mouth burst with it, dripping down his chin onto his chest. He gasped for air, come still on his tongue, eyes dazed and lost.

“Apology accepted,” Edward panted, plucking Oswald off the floor and laying him over his desk, ass and legs hanging over the side. 

“Wh-what are you doing now?” He asked, voice rough. 

“Giving you a proper orgasm,” he said simply. “You did apologize.” 

Oswald whimpered, spreading his legs wide as Edward’s tongue sank into his hole, wriggling and teasing him. The boy sobbed with want, mussed, flushed and an absolute mess. It was delightful to behold. “Please, please, professor, m-my cock, please…” He wiggled his hips a little. 

A sharp gasp and more cries of ecstasy left the child when Ed moved his mouth to take his soft genitals into his mouth. It was easy to fit cock and sac inside, tongue swirling around greedily. He tasted so pure, felt untouched and perfect beneath him. He gently wiggled a finger tip into his hole, adding to his pleasure, to the wanton way he was calling his name, how debauched he was from all this stimulation. 

The boy was driven so mad by it, one swift brush against the nerves inside of him and Edward’s tongue circling the inside of his foreskin made him shudder and come without an ounce of release, but Edward knew. 

He chuckled, releasing him when the waves stopped, kissing along his skin. “That’s the kind of thing that happens when you’re a good boy,” he growled. “The other is when you’re bad.” 

“What, what if I like both?” He stammered, turning his head to face him. Edward grinned. 

“Then I think we’re going to have a wonderful rest of the year, Mr. Cobblepot.” 

~*~ 

Dressed and pristine once more, Oswald toddled outside to his mother, smiling brightly at her. 

“Such a sveet boy smiling for his Mama like zat,” Gertrude gushed, petting his hair. “Did my baby have a good day today?” 

“Oh yes, Mother,” he said sincerely, looking back at the steps in front of the school, where Professor Nygma smirked and waved. “A very good day.”


End file.
